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4 /?1 1 afternoon, Adozindo chewed over this latest offence. I n his /fsi m Ju r e ^ pride , he felt a s if a large thorn had penetrated righ t f^y ^ / t h r o u g h hi s self-esteem. I t was a case of impertinence, and she needed t o be taught a lesson! The Handsome Adozindo had been made a fool o f by a nobody. The jeering laughter, the raised stone , tormented hi m to such an extent that not even the promised rendezvous with some plump, dovelike breasts was enough to sweeten his mood. He wasn't used to being humiliated by a woman. No, he wouldn't allo w the incident to go without an answer, unpunished. People couldn't make fun of the Handsome Adozindo like that. At dinner, h e ranted o n about the scu m o f Cheok Cha i Un, and ho w draconian measure s shoul d be taken against them. Even the barefoot girl s were insolent, foul-mouthed, braze n hussies who showed no respect for a peace-loving citize n who ventured into the area. He described Cheok Chai Un a s if i t were a huge, shameless whor e house, comparable onl y t o th e Beco da Rosa. The family, enjoyin g a mouth-watering meal , agreed with him, as did their guests. In the comfort o f a well-laden table , covered in a white lac e cloth, with glittering cutlery and the tinkling of fine china, it was easy to be critical. Not a single generous voice was raised in defence of folk who only had themselves to rely on, abandoned as they were to their fate in a ghetto. Tales were then told of knife fights, the arrogance of the a-tais amon g the dark, narrow streets . A story was recounted o f a Portuguese who went there to settle a score, but was the victim of such a savage attack that he' d been left wit h a broken leg, and lame for the rest of his life. No one knew what had happened to his assailants. His tirade at dinner failed to unburden his spirit. When it came down to it, he wa s a hypocrite, reelin g of f s o much nonsense , al l to cover up hi s wounded pride. The girl's chin, her slender neck and above all her glowing hair wouldn't leave his mind's eye, even at that rich dinner table. He felt his THEBEWITCHINGBRAI D2 5 dignity demeane d fo r carin g abou t a high-spirited, ignoran t an d illiterat e woman, who earned her living by delivering buckets of water from house to house. But it was a fact that he did indeed care. He mulled over plans for revenge . Only then would he rest, his prid e restored. Suddenly , he had a brainwave tha t lef t hi m rejoicing. Th e onl y fitting lesso n woul d be to seduc e her, appl y th e due corrective an d then , when she'd been used, cast her off a s refuse. I n fact, th e girl was no rotten fish, far from it, she was even quite pretty. Her splendid braid gave one the urge to plunge one's hands into her hair. Such a plan was not for broadcasting to the four corners . This was his own special secret. The girl's behaviour had besmirched his reputation as a ladies' man. He would even be ashamed to admit that he had focused hi s thoughts on a water-seller, he who had been master of the widow from Baixo Monte, a woman so fought ove r for her wealth and beauty. He dressed elegantly, for it never crossed his mind that such clothin g would not impress a working girl, accustomed to other standards and another way o f life . O n th e contrary , i t migh t scar e he r eve n more , give n th e differences i n education, mentality an d fortune . He would have to avoid the well s o as not to have to put up with th e chorus of women who, on two occasions now, had laughed at him. He wanted to catch he r by herself. For abou t two weeks, he scoured th e place to n...
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